Remember, remember, the smoldering spiders embedded forever in your mind, you livers of life. We all have that spider don’t we? That creepy crawling nibbling at our thoughts, our stunted brain. Nightmares from the past. Awake or asleep, but especially asleep. Recall those dreams when you were young? That you thought were real and were indeed real. Those few nightmares whose images stick like ferocious adhesive. Perhaps they were loud, jarring blarings of pavor nocturnus in your ears in screams and crashes and booms, incessant and sourceless. The dreams that brought about our phobias, our regrets, our self immolation. The sleep paralysis, the waking terrors of the night. Perhaps you are immune to such ordeals, but for some they falter not, these unborn realities. What we have for you today at Effluvia, this smelly compost of miracles, is a masterpiece of dark ambiance. It is precotious in it’s unwavering beauty and profound precision. The execution is so vivid and refined and concentrated on one large idea of the inside breaking through and screaming into our listening ears. The brilliance of Ars Sonor, and I consider it an honor that she releases with us netlabelers, is her bona fide devotion to a truly emotionally thwarting excursion. This was the second full length album from this manifestation of Laetitia Schteinberg’s prolific and harrowing output, recorded in August 2011. It was available via itunes, but now both distributor & label are closed, so she has decided to make it available via (cc), God bless her! “In this album I explore a repeating nightmare, the climax of which is the milking of a terrifying spider in a huge cave-like tree-hollow. Expect a surreal, sometimes disturbing (always dark) soundscape.” Such a concept in itself suggests the inevitability of how truly far into the inner recesses of your mind these sounds burrow to, but your assumption will do it no justice. Through these sounds, you will have vivid snapshots of how these horrifying spectacles transpired, and to evoke such feelings is a gift handed only to prodigies. Claustrophobic, otherwordly, creepy, obsessive, I can go on and on, but you dreamers of dreams, you know these terrains for yourselves. I speak so ardently of this perhaps because it stirs up very personal feeling inside of Dishdawash, who is an avid dreamer and embracer of nightmaresWelcome back to the feeling, the nibbling of the spider upon that mind that has ridden your back like a witch.